‘Derry I…’
‘Oh, I don’t blame you Mabel. You married a ‘poor as a church mouse’ church man only to find out he’s as rich as Croesus.’ He threw her a thin smile. ‘I might have done the same, even though he’s not my type.’
‘I didn’t go back because of the money,’ her voice scarcely a whisper.
‘No? That’s good to hear; difficult to believe but good to hear.’
‘It’s true! Do you think I dress like this out of choice?’
‘Ah, I must admit I was wondering about your crap taste in dress.’
‘Go to hell!’
‘I’m already there Mabel.’
The car pulled to a halt but before she could open the door he was there helping her out.
‘Are you sure you’ll be alright?’
She joined him in looking up at the manse, its dark grey stone unlit by even the weakest bulb.
‘I’ll be fine.’
‘But…’
‘But nothing Derry.’ She felt his hand on her arm.
‘Look, I’m sorry about what I said…’
‘Well I’m not.’ She interrupted. ‘I’m thankful for what you’ve done for my dad – I’ll never be able to repay you for that.’
‘I don’t want your money,’ his voice nearly a shout.
‘Shush and let me finish. I’ll never be able to repay you, but I’m not beholden. I’d like us to be friends if we can.’ She ended, holding out her hand.
He stood looking down at her in silence, his profile stark in the gloom. While she couldn’t see his expression she knew it would lie somewhere between anger, annoyance and frustration. He must have had a reason for offering her a lift home; it certainly wasn’t out of kindness. She sighed wearily putting her hand back in her pocket. She’d tried to be nice. She’d tried to bury the past; a past she hadn’t wanted to revisit. There was nothing else she could do other than walk away, which was why her feet had suddenly decided to weld themselves to the concrete was it: she was where she wanted to be, even if he was being a prat.
‘Okay, so that was a dumb idea – It seems we can never be friends. Well thanks again and goodnight.’
She found herself being dragged into a bear hug, her head pressed up against his suit. All she could see was the pale grey stripe of his suiting. All she could smell was the feint scent of some industrial hospital soap. All she could hear was the thumping of her heart as it exploded in her ears. All she could feel was… anger at being put in such a compromising position in the middle of the road! Jerking her head back she managed to squeeze her hands up to push him away her eyes swivelling from side to side. Thank God it was Corrie time and therefore unlikely for her in number 24 to be curtain twitching but you never could tell. She could still feel her heart doing summersaults but she ignored it, just as she ignored his hand trying to pull her back. In truth all she felt at that moment was intense dislike, despite the fact she loved him with everything she had. How the hell could he be so stupid as to grab her in the street in front of the rows and rows of terraced houses opposite?
Lifting up her bag, which had managed to drop to the ground she turned on her heel without saying another word, a lesson she’d learnt from her dad – another one of his favourite quotes. She had nothing to say to him at the moment that didn’t contain a string of four letter words; four letter words she’d only regret later so silence would have to do.
Letting herself into the quiet house she made her way to the front room and peered around the heavy damask curtains. He was still there, exactly where she’d left him hands in his pockets while he waited for…What? Dragging her feet she made for her bedroom, really a box room but it was that or share with Henry and that wasn’t going to happen. She switched on the light and flung her bag on the chair by the window and couldn’t resist the temptation of seeing if he was still there but all she saw was his back as he made his way to his car.
The next few days screamed by. Before she knew it her dad had been in hospital a week. She’d managed to convince Henry to let her visit him in the afternoons: she didn’t really need his permission but with Iris suddenly back on the scene things were a little easier. Coming downstairs she hadn’t turned a hair at the sight of her getting his breakfast. She was well used to her using the manse like a hotel and funnily enough they’d drawn a line across their relationship. They didn’t like each other, but as they were both stuck with Henry for the time being they decided to avoid anything that could lead to an argument - the fact that all they were left with was the weather or the state of the Irish economy being a moot point.
‘Your dad’s moving to that convalescent home today then?’
‘That’s right.’ She grabbed her keys from the little brass hook beside the back door.
‘Send him my love.’
‘What?’ Mabel paused, one arm in her denim jacket the other still rooting behind her back for the suddenly elusive sleeve.
‘Look…’ Iris reached over to help her. ‘Just ignore Henry alright – I’ve always liked your dad, even if you and I don’t see eye to eye.’ She smiled briefly. ‘I’ve had a word with him and told him he’s out of order the way he mocks him – Your dad is the very best of men.’
Mabel’s mouth fell open at the thought of Iris actually being nice for once. Oh God, she’d have to reset all her data banks if it continued. All her sentiments up until now had been negative – Nasty Iris with the fake boobs, fake designer gear and even faker tan. She was a major topic of conversation when she met up with the girls; someone to ridicule, someone to hate. But now, like Saul the scales fell and she had a glimpse of the person hidden underneath the leopard skin velour robe and six inch lashes. Henry wasn’t easy, she reminded herself wrapping her old pink scarf tight around her throat – No, that was untrue. Henry was bloody difficult and Iris still kept coming back for more. She’d heard them shouting late into the night as had most of the street, but she’d just ignored it. Standing there, already late for her bus she was at a loss. Had she made assumptions based on their joint history? Had she been influenced by the way Iris dressed? Definitely! Her shoulders heaved. Well then she’d probably made a mistake and Iris was still staring at her, a look of sympathy etched across her face.
‘Thank you Iris, that means a lot.’ She turned to go, only to pause at Iris’s next words.
‘So what are your plans then – surely you’re not planning on hanging around. I’m back for good now.’
She threw her a quick look before turning back to the door, her hand on the handle. ‘That’s good to know. I have plans too. I met a man a while back, but with Henry and all…’
‘Good for you, and good luck to you.
‘Thank you Iris.’ She pulled the door closed behind her, a smile breaking out and turning into a giggle. If Derry heard what she’d said about him he’d have a canary, but then again she knew the chances of him actually meeting Iris face to face were as good as zilch. Even if they were to meet it wasn’t the usual topic of conversation – the love life of your husband’s soon to be ex! Dawdling along the path her head full of smart retorts in case he ever did find out she nearly missed the bus as it sneaked up behind her, but she didn’t mind as there was just one seat left. Her smile lingered at the thought of Iris looking after Henry that is until she caught the eye of the stern looking accountant type with his briefcase clutched to his chest like a shield. Blushing scarlet she took out her phone and pretended to read through her texts even if they were all old and boring – he wasn’t to know that.
She was almost at the hospital when a thought suddenly struck her, not easy when she was pressed up against the window by someone overflowing their seat. She’d always assumed Iris was after Henry’s money, but now she wasn’t so sure. Had she been wrong all these years? Had Iris finally met her love match? Her face pulled into a reluctant smile, before breaking into laughter much to the annoyance of the woman sitting beside her munching on a donut.
‘Do you mind?’
‘No, car
ry on eating – I don’t mind at all.’ She smiled sweetly before turning her head to look at the dozens of people streaming past the window. Well if he wanted to divorce her to marry Iris she’d happily act as bridesmaid or should that be matron of honour?
Hopping off the bus she walked the final few steps to the entrance her eyes scanning the car park. She hadn’t seen Derry since that fateful night and now there was no sign of his distinctive little car. If she didn’t know better she’d think he was avoiding her but that would be ridiculous. He’d just decided not to conduct his ward rounds during visiting hours and who could blame him.
She was surprised to see that secretary of his though perched on the edge of dad’s bed, deep in conversation: no doubt completing some last minute documentation to do with the move. It had been kind of the hospital to find a free bed for her dad to continue his physiotherapy, if only for a couple of weeks. She frowned, trying to remember which fund they’d said it came out of – some charitable donation of some sort probably. Just as long as he was independent enough so that she could be left to chase after Henry. Although it must be said since Iris had arrived back on the scene she’d taken an ever increasing amount of his day to day care on to her own shoulders. She didn’t dwell too much on her reasons. In truth she didn’t care too much about her reasons. To be able to have a full night’s uninterrupted sleep was better than winning the lotto.
‘Ah, there you are my dear. You’ve met Michele I believe?’
‘Oh, yes, of course.’ She stumbled, putting out her hand. So this shy dark haired woman was Michele was it, the erstwhile dog sitter. ‘I believe we have a dog in common?’
‘Michele’s eyes twinkled. ‘You know Curly? What an amazing beast.’
‘You’ve obviously been spending too much time with your boss – that’s what De…’ She blushed, only realising her mistake too late. ‘That’s what Professor Yeats calls him.’
‘Amongst other things,’ she muttered under her breath before smiling. ‘He’s in the car if you’d like a lift to Seaview to see you dad settled in?’ It was her turn to blush, something Mabel noted with interest. ‘Your dad has asked if I’d follow him there, he’s a bit nervous.’
She hid her surprise with a cough. Her dad had been at the mercy of matchmakers ever since her mother had died. She’d even broached the subject on the odd occasion, but all he would say was ‘Not now pet.’
Perhaps his ‘now’ had come, and not a second too late in her opinion. Perhaps this Michele would be able to get him to take it easy. Perhaps she would even be able to get him to retire.
‘I’d love that, thank you.’
Seaview Convalescent Home was a purpose built facility on Bray headland with spectacular views across the Irish Sea. Unlike St Justin’s tired façade Seaview was modelled on a traditional double fronted gentleman’s manor house even down to the manicured lawns and deep filled borders. They’d unanimously decided to leave Curly in the car as he’d taken up residence in the back seat after a surprisingly joyous welcome. She couldn’t be sure if he remembered her but there was definitely a spark of recognition in his warm eyes and wagging tail.
Inside the non-clinical feel continued with broad corridors painted deep blue and dotted with seascapes to compliment the ocean just outside. They found her dad already ensconced in his own private room with sea views no less.
‘Well this is a bit of alright.’ She settled in the chair opposite only to stand again at a knock on the door closely followed by a ward orderly bringing in a tray of tea.
‘Do you think they have space for me, I don’t take up much room?’ She added, handed round mugs and biscuits before sitting down again, her cup clasped between her fingers.
‘It’s not going to be all sitting around scoffing tea Mabel. They have a full programme for me, including swimming and the gym – I’m not looking forward to it my dear.’ He patted Michele’s hand briefly.
‘It’ll get that old ticker of yours fighting fit Fergus.’
‘Hey, not so much of the old.’
Mabel caught their smile and felt sadness creep in at the edges. Her dad was all she had. For too long it had just been them; them and the memory of her mother. Even Henry and his demanding ways hadn’t been able to damage the bond they’d had, probably one of the reasons he’d started treating Fergus the way he had. But now something had come and interrupted that and she was sad – not for her dad, more a momentary selfish sadness at losing the undivided attention of the only man that had always been there for her. Her breath caught and she lowered her still full cup back on to the table for of course her dad hadn’t been the only man. Ruari was always there, she only had to lift a finger and he’d pop round to check on her and then finally there was Derry. She’d tried not to let her thoughts swing in his direction and, after five years of total abstinence she was beginning to believe she’d parcelled him up and sent him to that darkest corner of her mind that only sneaked through the cracks when her head hit the pillow. If things had gone as planned they’d be a couple now instead of barely speaking strangers. If Henry hadn’t had his accident and held a gun to her head she’d have divorced him and gone straight back to Derry. If she hadn’t been a coward she’d have told her dad the truth and be damned at the consequences. But lifting her gaze her eyes lingered on Michele and Fergus’s entwined hands. Sometimes the wrong decision was the right one, even if it was made for all the wrong reasons.
Jumping up she grabbed the car keys off the table. ‘I think I’ll just pop out and take Curly for a walk in the grounds.’ She put her hand briefly on Michele’s shoulder as she started to stand. ‘No, you stay and keep dad company – I won’t be long.’
‘I like your daughter, she’s nice.’
‘She is that.’ He gripped her hand tightly for a second. ‘I just wish things had turned out differently for her.’
‘Turned out differently?’
She watched as he nodded his head. ‘Henry was so different before the fall; I don’t like to speak ill of anyone but he’s taken his accident very badly.’
‘What happened, although if it’s difficult to speak about…’
‘No no.’ Turning her hand over and placing a kiss in its centre before closing it again, his eyes meeting hers. ‘You’ll need to know if…’
‘If?’ She prompted gently, her heart doing a little back flip.
‘I know I’m not a very good catch; a crusty old widow with a crusty old heart.’ He pulled a smile. ‘I’m probably making a complete fool of myself but…’
‘You’re not making a fool of yourself Fergus,’ her voice soft. ‘I feel the same.’
‘Hello Michele, working on your day off; I hope you’re not looking for another pay rise?’
‘Just shut up and listen will you. I’ve nipped to the loo so only have a couple of minutes.’
He chortled back. ‘Too much information, even if you are the best medical secretary I’ve ever had.’
‘I’ll file that comment – I’m here with Fergus and…’
‘He’s proposed?’
‘Well, yes actually – How did you know…?’
‘I’d have to be blind…’ There was a long pause. ‘Well let’s just say it was a lucky guess.’
‘Look, that’s not why I’m phoning – Mabel’s here.’
‘So? That’s nothing to do with me.’
‘It’s everything to do with you and if you don’t shut up and listen I’ll file all the notes under a new system I learnt off the internet – it’s called “The Last Letter System” - should be a doddle, although we’ll need more filing cabinets...’
‘Oh God…’
‘Shush, I don’t have long. I’ve sent her to walk Curly and, as we know he doesn’t like being out too long in the cold weather – he’ll be yapping and climbing up her leg in no time. They’re booting us out in a minute so I thought I’d take her to lunch in Bray to that café you told me about.’
‘Fern House?’
‘That’s the one.’ The lin
e went dead for a couple of seconds while she marshalled her courage alongside marshalling her words; after all he was still her boss. ‘Why not join us?’
‘I couldn’t.’
‘Yes you could! You were only telling me how often you pop in after taking Curly for his weekend romp on the beach – she doesn’t need to know its anything but an unfortunate coincidence.’
‘She’ll certainly think that.’
‘You’re too hard on yourself. That husband of hers is a complete Dillon.’
‘I wouldn’t know...’
‘Well I know, but I just don’t have time to tell you – Fergus will think I’ve fallen down the S-Bend. See you at One – no make that ten past, or she’ll smell a rat.’
Sitting in the car her hand paused on the ignition key Michele plucked up the courage to change the subject. Yes, the weather was always interesting as a fall back, but when you were about to marry the father of the woman sitting beside you it felt too much like lying.
‘About me and your dad...’
‘It’s alright, I’ve sort of guessed, although just to say I’m a tad too old to be a flower girl.’
‘I hope…’ She adjusted the mirror slightly before turning in her seat to face her. ‘I’m not going to compete with your mother Mabel. Fergus still has a special place for her and I’m not going to try and compete with that - I hope we can be friends?’
‘This is difficult for me, but all I’ve ever wanted is for dad to be happy – you make him happy, happier than I’ve seen him in a very long time – for that I’m grateful.
They shared a smile.
‘I’m going to ask Derry if he’ll give me away, I hope that’s okay with you?’
‘I’m sure he’ll be honoured. He’ll look cute in a morning suit.’
‘That’s what I was thinking.’ She giggled. ‘I could never resist a man in morning suit.
Unhappy Ever After Girl (Irish Girl, Hospital Romance 3) Page 16
